


Learned behaviors

by alenie



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, M/M, Masturbation, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alenie/pseuds/alenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1: When Bucky was conditioned by Hydra he was taught that harming his handlers meant punishment. Bucky's made progress in recovery, but when he accidentally hurts Steve it triggers a conditioned response and he knows that his actions mean that Steve will have to punish him.</p><p>Part 2: Bucky was repeatedly raped by his handlers to the point that he equates sex with pain. His attraction to Steve terrifies him and his fear escalates when a misunderstanding leads him to believe that Steve wants to have sex with him.</p><p>Part 3: Sam hangs out with Bucky while Steve goes to an important appointment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky feels a hand on his shoulder, and he reacts instinctively, grabbing the hand by the wrist and twisting and yanking. He turns just in time to see Steve thud into the wall, and his brain abruptly comes back online.

It was Steve who touched him. _Steve_. And Bucky hurt him. 

Terror roils through him so fast that he feels dizzy with it. Steve looks after him, feeds him and smiles at him and keeps him safe. Bucky is not allowed to hurt him. That means punishment. 

Steve is getting to his feet. Bucky backs away from him, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. Steve's never punished him before--Bucky's tried so hard to be good in the months he's been living here with Steve--and it scares him, not knowing how Steve will choose to hurt him. 

His shoulders hit the wall and he sinks down into a crouch, pressing himself into the corner, in the small space between Steve's bookshelf and the window. Steve is coming closer, looking unhappy. He's not like Bucky's other handlers. He won't like it that Bucky needs to be punished, which will only make it worse. 

Bucky curls himself up as small as he can. He knows it won't stop Steve from dragging him out of the corner, but he can't make his limbs relax enough to stop. 

"Bucky?" 

Steve's stopped a couple of feet away. He sounds confused. Probably wondering why Bucky's being so bad. He takes another step forward, and Bucky loses control of his bladder and pisses himself in fear. His sweatpants are wet through within seconds, and piss drips down onto the floor, soaking into the carpet. It smells acrid and sharp. He'll really be in trouble now; they don't like it when he makes a mess. 

Steve says his name again. "Bucky, look at me," he says. Bucky obeys the command. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," Steve says firmly. "Do you understand?" 

Bucky doesn't understand. He hurt Steve. He needs to be punished. He doesn't have a mission and so he doesn't need to be mission-ready. There is no reason to delay punishment. 

"Bucky," Steve says. He reaches out a hand and Bucky cannot help it; he whimpers. He likes Steve's hands, the gentle way they touch him on the shoulder or help him tie back his hair. He does not want to know how it feels when those same hands are hurting him. 

Steve makes a similar noise of distress and pulls his hand back. 

"It's okay," he says. "Bucky, I'm fine, you didn't hurt me. I'm sorry I surprised you." 

Bucky swallows. "I'm ready for my punishment," he says. 

Steve's face crumples. Does he not want Bucky to talk? Some of the handlers wanted him to be silent, but Steve has never asked him to do that before. 

"There isn't going to be a punishment, Buck. It was an accident. It wasn't your fault." His voice is soft and kind. 

"Do you know who I am?" Steve asks. 

Bucky nods. 

"Can you tell me my name?" 

"Steve." 

Steve looks relieved. "You've been living with me for two months, Buck. Have I ever punished you before?" 

"No," Bucky says, because it's the truth. "I've been good. You didn't need to." 

Steve kneels on the floor across from Bucky, his hands on his thighs where Bucky can easily keep an eye on them. 

"Hydra punished you when you were bad?" he asks. 

Bucky nods. Thinking about what Hydra did make him cringe away from Steve again, his heart rate picking up and thumping painfully in his chest, his mind going fuzzy with fear. 

"But I'm not Hydra," Steve says quickly, ducking his head to try and look Bucky in the eyes. "And I bet I've done a lot of things differently than Hydra did, right?" 

Bucky thinks about this. There are many things different about living with Steve, it's true. He has his own room with a lock on the door. He eats at least three times a day. And there haven't been any missions. 

"I'm not going to punish you," Steve says again. 

"But--" Bucky says, then stops. 

"What?" 

"But I hurt you. And then I--" humiliated, he gestures at his lap, where the sweatpants are clinging wetly to his skin. 

"That doesn't matter. This is my house, and my rules, and I say that there aren't going to be any punishments. _Ever_." 

It could be a trick. 

Bucky doesn't want it to be a trick. Steve is sitting there so patiently, just watching him, and Bucky's whole body is trembling. He's so used to Steve's touch, to Steve comforting him with gentle hands and the warmth of his big body, that his bones are aching for it, crying out for Steve despite the overwhelming fear that Steve will hurt him. 

"Steve," he manages, his voice breaking. "I--" He lurches forward, up onto his knees. 

Steve smiles at him, but his eyes are sad. "Yeah, Buck?" 

"Steve," he says again. His hand is shaking when he stretches it out towards Steve, but he keeps it there, hanging in the air between them. 

Steve´s fingers are warm when he intertwines them with Bucky´s. Bucky watches as Steve closes his eyes and holds fast to Bucky´s hand, taking a deep breath. When he opens them again, he looks calmer. 

"I love you," Steve tells him, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against the back of Bucky's hand. 

Bucky's throat is tight. He squeezes Steve's hand. Steve squeezes back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky was repeatedly raped by his handlers to the point that he equates sex with pain. His attraction to Steve terrifies him and his fear escalates when a misunderstanding leads him to believe that Steve wants to have sex with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: all the noncon is in the past, but a small part of this ficlet deals with Bucky remembering his past rapes/abuse.

Looking at Steve makes him feel weird inside, like his organs are rearranging themselves for their own secretive purposes and he is helpless to stop them.

He tries not to look at Steve, but it's difficult. Steve is everywhere. Steve is doing pushups in the living room, cooking waffles in the kitchen, reading in his bedroom, emerging from the bathroom with his hair sticking every which way and a towel wrapped around his waist. 

Sometimes when he looks at Steve, his penis gets hard. It fills him with a sick shame, and he has to lock himself in his bedroom and hide in the closet, where it's dark and calm and quiet and he doesn't have to see Steve's face. He never got hard before, when they-- 

_They_ got hard and they forced their hardness inside him and made him bleed and scream and beg them to stop. 

When he thinks of doing that to Steve, he shivers and quakes and gasps for breath. Steve is good and kind and everything that Bucky is not, and Bucky _does not want_ to hurt him. 

Because he remembers. 

He remembers being scared. 

He remembers a room full of men and their big hands, their false smiles. Holding him down, shoving inside. 

He remembers the sounds they made. Grunting and moaning, their skin sweaty against his. He made them hard and they used him, putting themselves inside him over and over again, too-big and painful. He always hurt, and they liked his hurting, using him more roughly until his body made them release inside him. 

That cannot happen to Steve, and so when he gets stiff and full between his legs, he hides himself away. 

On Wednesday Steve makes tacos and Bucky throws up. Steve says that Bucky's stomach needs to adjust to solid food again, and he never gets mad when Bucky vomits. He always asks Bucky what made him sick, and then he writes it on a list. 

Bucky flushes the toilet and rinses out his mouth and goes to tell Steve. 

Steve's bedroom door is shut. When Bucky listens, he can hear noises from inside. Steve sounds like he is in pain, like maybe he is being hurt. Bucky's body tenses up, worried for Steve, and he barrels into Steve's room. 

Steve is... 

Steve is sitting on the edge of his bed and his penis is jutting up out his pants, hard and red. His hand is still wrapped around it and he is staring at Bucky, frozen in place. 

Fear rushes through Bucky so quickly that he feels lightheaded with it and sways dizzily. 

"Bucky!" Steve says, and jumps up. His big penis bobs up and down, and Bucky moans low in his throat and backs away into the hallway. It will hurt when Steve puts it inside him. 

Steve is doing up his pants now, and Bucky can see that he is still hard, a long, thick bulge in his jeans. He is fearful but he knows that if Steve wants to use him, he will not be able to fight. 

"Bucky, what's wrong?" Steve says, coming even closer. "I'm sorry you saw me, uh, masturbating, but that's all it was, Buck. Nothing to be afraid of." 

Bucky's having a hard time breathing, and when Steve reaches out for him he breaks, bolting for his room and all but flinging himself into his closet, where he huddles among his clothes and wraps his arms around his knees. 

"Bucky?" he hears Steve say again. Bucky left his bedroom door open, but Steve doesn't come inside. "I'm sorry I scared you. I'm going to call Sam and see if he can come over to help, okay?" 

Bucky doesn't say anything, and eventually he can hear Steve's footsteps go off down the hall, and the low murmur of his voice on the phone. He practices the breathing exercises that Sam and Steve taught him for when he feels upset, and bit by bit his body relaxes, until he's slumped against the wall of his closet. 

"Bucky?" Sam says sometimes later, his voice pulling Bucky back into awareness. "Can I come in your room?" 

"Okay," Bucky says, and Sam comes in and sits cross-legged in front of his closet. Bucky left the door open a crack, so he can see out, and Sam looks just like he does on every other day, calm and patient, wearing a green sweater that looks soft. 

"Hey, man. Steve's a little worried about you right now, says he scared you and he feels real bad about it. Do you want to talk to me about it, tell me what's on your mind?" 

Bucky chews on his bottom lip. 

"I don't want him to hear." 

"Okay. We can kick him out for a while, so it's just you and me." 

"No," Bucky says automatically. He doesn't like it when Steve leaves. He nudges the closet door open wider with his foot."Can you--" 

The closet is crowded with Sam in it. They're sitting side by side, so Bucky doesn't have to look at him. It makes it easier to tell Sam his secrets in the darkness of the closet. 

"I threw up the tacos," he starts, shakily. "I went to tell Steve. He was in his room and when I went inside he was--" 

He takes a gulp of air, panic rising again at the memory of Steve's hardness sticking out of his pants, of the way that Steve had looked at him. 

"He was jerking off, right?" Sam says gently. "Why did that upset you?" 

"It hurts," Bucky whimpers, starting to tremble. "When they put it in you, it hurts." 

Sam is quiet for a moment. Bucky doesn't look at him. 

"Steve would never force you to do anything against your will. You don't have to worry about anything like ever happening to you again." Sam's still speaking quietly, but his voice has taken on a hard edge. 

"But I would _let him_ ," Bucky says. Tears of anger and frustration start rolling down his cheeks. "If he wanted to. Sometimes when I look at him, I--but I get scared, because he's big and it would hurt and--" 

"Hey, hey, slow down. Okay. Let's take this one step at a time. Consensual sex between two people doesn't have to hurt, okay? Even anal. No matter how big someone's penis is, if they take their time and use plenty of lube, it won't hurt." 

"It always hurt when they did it to me," Bucky whispers. 

"What they did to you was wrong," Sam says. He sounds like he's frowning. "Very, very wrong. Steve wouldn't do that, I promise." 

Bucky wipes his nose on his sleeve. 

"Then wh-why was he—" He still can't bring himself to say the word. 

"Why was he masturbating?" Sam asks. 

Bucky nods. 

"Probably because it made him feel good. Doesn't mean he wanted to have sex with you." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Very sure. If you want, I can ask Steve to come tell you himself, so you can be certain." 

"Okay," Bucky agrees. Thinking about Steve still makes him feel nervous. "You won't leave?" 

"I'll be here the whole time you're talking to him," Sam says. "Is it okay if I told him what you just told me?" 

Bucky says yes, and then Sam gets up and goes to fetch Steve. It takes him a few minutes before he comes back, and when he does, Steve is trailing at his side. He looks sad, and his pants don't have a bulge in them anymore. 

"Hey, Buck," Steve says, sitting down in front of the closet. Sam sits next to him. "Sam told me you were worried that me jerking off meant I wanted to have sex with you. I just want you to know that's not true, and that—and that I love you very much, and I would never—" 

He breaks off with a choked noise and turns his face away. Sam rubs his back, and Steve turns and presses his face into Sam's shoulder. His shoulders are shaking and he keeps making those small sad sounds into Sam's sweater. He doesn't stop crying, and Bucky watches from his closet as Sam helps him up and leads him out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam hangs out with Bucky while Steve goes to an important appointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter refers briefly to the events of chapter two, but there are no major warnings.

“You sure you’ll be all right?” Steve asks for the millionth time. 

“We’ll be fine,” Sam reassures him, also for the millionth time. “It’s just for two hours. We’ll probably make some popcorn and watch a movie. Now get your ass out the door or you’re gonna be late. You know how important this is.”

Steve ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck. “I know,” he mutters. “But--”

“I’ll call you if anything happens,” Sam interrupts. “Steve. _Go._ ”

With Steve finally out of the house, Sam supposes he ought to go find Bucky. He shuts the front door, turns around, and immediately jumps about three feet in the air when Bucky’s standing right there in front of him.

“Christ,” he gasps, one hand over his heart, the other just barely keeping hold of the box of donuts he brought with him.

Bucky gives him a worried look.

“It’s cool, you just startled me. How you doin’ today?”

“Steve’s coming back, right?” Bucky says quietly.

“Of course he is,” Sam reassures him.

“Do I make him sad?” Bucky asks next, and damn, it is way too early in the morning to be dealing with these kinds of questions. 

“Let’s go sit down,” Sam suggests, in an effort to buy himself a little time. He heads into the living room and sprawls onto the couch. Bucky trails behind and sits on one of the soft, shaggy rugs Steve had bought after he realized that sometimes sitting on the couch was too much for Bucky to handle.

“Okay, so here’s the deal. Yes, Steve is sad sometimes, but it’s not your fault. You make him very happy. It’s the bad things that happened to you that make him sad. You with me so far?”

Bucky’s hair is hanging messily in his eyes, making it difficult for Sam to see his expression. 

“I don’t want him to be sad. Would he be less sad if I weren’t here?”

“Definitely not,” Sam says, trying to head this one right off. “You heard how Steve was all reluctant to leave, yeah? He likes being here with you.”

He opens up the donut box and selects a plain glazed. “You want one?” he offers, holding the box in Bucky’s direction. “I got a bunch of different kinds, take your pick.”

It takes Bucky a couple of minutes to make a decision, but Sam waits him out and he eventually selects a chocolate cake donut, which he proceeds to eat slowly and neatly. He keeps pushing his hair back behind his ears to get it out of his face while he eats, and Sam gets an idea.

“Does your hair bother you, hanging in your face like that?”

Bucky looks at him like he doesn’t understand the question.

“If you want, I can put it up for you.” Sam taps at his phone, brings up a picture of a girl with her hair in a french braid. “Like this, see? I do my nieces’ hair all the time.”

Bucky stares at the picture and reaches up to touch his own hair. “Okay,” he says at last.

It’s easier to braid hair when it’s wet, but Sam doesn’t want to give Bucky time to overthink this, so he’ll have to make do. 

“Move over here,” he says, gesturing to the patch of floor directly in front of him. Bucky sits on the floor between his legs while Sam starts working his fingers through his hair, getting the tangles out. After a minute or two Bucky’s shoulders start to drop down, no longer hunched up around his ears like they were when he was talking about Steve. 

“‘S nice, right?” Sam says casually. He finishes finger-combing through Bucky’s hair and starts braiding. “I bet we could teach Steve how to do this for when I’m not around.”

He’s trying to braid as slowly as possible, parting Bucky’s hair into sections just so, smoothing them between his fingers before he adds them to the three main strands, but Bucky’s hair isn’t that long, and it’s only five or so minutes before he’s finishing the braid and tying it off with a rubber band. 

“All done.”

Bucky, instead of asking to see or thanking Sam or any other number of reasonable reactions, makes an uncertain wordless noise and turns his face into Sam’s knee.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks, but Bucky shakes his head and nudges in closer, his whole body leaning up against Sam’s leg. “You gotta talk to me, Bucky.”

“It felt good,” Bucky mumbles, his words blurring together. “He--Steve, he doesn’t--”

“Doesn’t what?” Sam presses, when Bucky doesn’t continue. 

“Doesn’t touch me,” Bucky says mournfully. “Not anymore, not since I got scared.”

Sam winces. Yeah, he remembers that day. Bucky had been terrified, Steve had been frantic with worry, and Sam was stuck in the middle of it all. In the end, _Steve_ had actually been harder to calm down than Bucky--he’d been absolutely horrified that Bucky thought Steve would hurt him, and he kept fretting about whether Bucky would be better off without him. Sam had had to spend the night on Steve’s couch just to make sure he didn’t get any crazy ideas into his head.

“If you want him to touch you, you should let him know. Maybe you could talk to him about it when he gets home.”

“What if he doesn’t want to touch me anymore?”

“You’re not gonna find out if you don’t ask him.”

Bucky sighs. 

“ _You_ touch me.”

“Yeah, and I’m also not Steve. He’s been through a lot, he’s got issues same as you do. You gotta go easy on him and let him know what you need. Don’t make him guess.”

Sam can tell Bucky’s getting frustrated with their conversation, so he decides a distraction is in order. 

“Let’s make cookies,” he says impulsively. 

He pokes around in the cupboards and fridge and manages to find all the ingredients he needs for lemon poppyseed cookies. Bucky helps him measure and stir and a small drinking glass works perfectly for cutting the dough after they’ve rolled it out. 

“Lookin’ good,” Sam says as he slides the first sheet into the oven and sets the timer. “How about we start cleaning up the kitchen while these bake?”

By the time Steve comes home, the kitchen is sparkling clean, the cookies have been thoroughly taste-tested and the remainder are all cooling on a rack, and Bucky is on the floor leaning up against Sam’s legs while they watch TV.

“How was it?” Sam asks. Steve looks tired, but not visibly upset. 

Steve makes a face. “Kinda weird? I’m not really used to talking about myself so much. And she says I have a lot of work to do on learning how to express my feelings.”

“But you’re gonna keep seeing her?”

Steve nods. “I got the hair ties you asked for,” he says, holding up a CVS bag. “And do I smell cookies?”

“In the kitchen,” Sam says, letting Steve’s abrupt change in subject slide for now. “But first get over here and check out the awesome job I did on Bucky’s hair.”

“Sam braided it,” Bucky says, turning to show Steve the back of his head.

“It looks really nice,” Steve agrees. 

“Glad you think so, ‘cause I’m gonna teach you how to do it.”

Steve looks genuinely alarmed by the prospect, so Sam goes for the big guns before Steve can try and turn him down.

“Bucky wants you to.”

Steve looks at Bucky. Bucky looks at Steve. 

“Okay,” Steve says, after a good ten seconds of neither of them saying anything. Sam’s never going to understand these two, is he. “Can I have some cookies first?”


End file.
